The end of the week had finally arrived, heralding the time of preparation for the Selection Game. There remained approximately one week before the fateful event would commence, and the academy, in its rare generosity, had granted the participants precious time with their masters — time to sharpen their minds, harden their spirits, and steel their bodies for the ordeal to come. Tristan, Garfield, and Amelia were no exception, journeying together toward Green Manor where their master awaited.
As they sat within Amelia's carriage, silence reigned — heavy, suffocating, and unspoken. The air itself seemed to tremble beneath the weight of unvoiced words.
'This tension is unbearable,' Tristan thought, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery beyond the carriage window. 'If I leave it to them, this silence will eat us alive. I suppose it falls to me to mend what their pride refuses to.'
"Alright, let's talk this out," Tristan began, breaking the suffocating quiet. "Garfield, you can't remain angry forever, and the same goes for you, Amelia. Let's communicate — we're teammates, are we not?"
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then, unexpectedly, Garfield's voice filled the air — low, calm, but carrying a cold gravity that startled even Tristan. Gone was the warmth of the kindhearted boy they had known; what remained was someone tempered, distant, and resolute.
"I will continue to participate in the Selection Game," he said evenly, his eyes fixed on Amelia. "But that does not mean I agree with your ideals. I'll fight for my own reasons — they may seem selfish, but they are far less self-serving than yours."
Amelia's composure faltered, her patience shattering beneath the sting of his words.
"Who are you to judge my goals?" she snapped, fury flickering behind her gaze. "What changed, Garfield? Days ago, you were against the Selection Game, and now you defend it. Why the sudden transformation?"
Tristan's attempt at reconciliation had backfired spectacularly. The atmosphere had gone from awkward to incendiary in seconds. He exhaled heavily — but before he could say another word, their attention shifted toward him.
"You know what, brother?" Garfield muttered, his voice edged with resentment. "You never said why you want the Selection Game to continue. I've heard Amelia's reasoning — though I still believe her ambition is a foolish cause for people to lose their lives."
Tristan leaned back, his gaze turning distant. The carriage rocked softly beneath them, and through the glass he watched the world blur by. His reason wasn't noble, nor born from moral conviction — it was something far simpler, far more personal.
"Is there a greater reason than the desire to grow stronger?" Tristan asked quietly, his eyes shifting toward Garfield.
Their arguing ceased; both Amelia and Garfield looked at him with a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and unease.
"So your justification for risking lives is power?" Amelia asked, her voice trembling between disappointment and anger.
Tristan laughed faintly, the sound devoid of mirth.
"I'm surprised you haven't yet realized the kind of person I am," he said, his tone calm but chillingly sincere. "Let me be honest — I don't care about people. The few I do care about are those who've proven useful to me. I am selfish by nature, and I will always choose the path that benefits me above the rest. If people die, they die. Everyone does, eventually. Helping them only delays the inevitable."
Garfield recoiled, his expression hardening. "I thought Amelia's reason was bad," he muttered, voice low with disgust. "But yours… yours is far worse."
Tristan immediately sensed the fracture deepening. He couldn't stop himself from speaking — worse, he couldn't stop himself from saying exactly what he believed. He might have been the worst kind of man, but at least he was a truthful one.
Amelia looked at him, eyes dim with sadness. She turned her face away, shaking her head slowly as though trying to dislodge the image of the person she thought she knew.
The rest of the journey passed in silence, the kind of silence that gnaws at the edges of one's soul. The team — once merely divided — now felt irreparably splintered. When they finally arrived at Green Manor, the grand gates opened to reveal Ruben Green, waiting with an ever-pleasant smile.
He stepped forward as the carriage halted, extending a welcoming hand toward Tristan.
"It's been far too long," Ruben greeted warmly. "How have you been?"
Tristan took his hand with a restrained grip, his expression unreadable.
"Fine, I suppose," he replied flatly. "Though I'd be better if I didn't have to see you."
Ruben chuckled, unbothered by the cold reply, before his gaze drifted toward his sister. Her silence told him enough — as did Garfield's distant stare. Turning to the unfamiliar face he had heard so much about, he extended his hand once more.
"Ruben Green," he said with an amiable smile. "And I presume you are Garfield Frutia?"
"Yes," Garfield replied cautiously. "Though I don't believe we've met. How do you know me?"
"My sister speaks quite fondly of her two partners," Ruben replied, still effortlessly cheerful.
Garfield nodded stiffly. "Ah… I see."
Ruben motioned for them to follow him toward the rear courtyard of the manor. With a fluid motion of his hand, he began channeling Star Energy, the air humming faintly as he formed a shimmering dome around the training field. Constructing such barriers was no simple feat — it required one's own blood as an anchor, the drawn boundary sealed by will and energy alike. Given Decker's strength as a Four-Star, he could easily form barriers of that grade, though the higher the tier, the greater the cost in energy.
"The barrier I've created is of Three-Star level," Ruben explained. "You might ask why — and I'll tell you now. From this day onward, I'll be providing you with Remnants to hasten your growth."
"Isn't that against the rules?" Garfield asked sharply. "Wouldn't that give us an unfair advantage?"
Ruben tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I've never seen any rule forbidding the use of Remnants," he said smoothly.
He continued, tone now instructive.
"Besides, you're not the only ones using them. That's precisely why they insisted each of you have a sponsor with both wealth and power."
He paused, letting the information settle before gesturing toward the translucent dome that surrounded them.
"Now, here's how this will go — by the end of the week, I expect you all to shatter this barrier."
The trio stared at him, expressions caught between disbelief and bewilderment.
"Brother, you want us to break the barrier?" Amelia asked, her voice carrying both confusion and disbelief shared by her companions.
Ruben walked to the center of the dome, his boots echoing faintly across the stone. Though the barrier shimmered faintly, barely perceptible to the naked eye, those attuned to Star Energy could see it clearly — a radiant veil pulsing softly like a living thing. He raised his hand, pointing toward its peak.
"A barrier is simple to destroy if you strike it with the proper force. Alone, none of you could do it. But together, if you synchronize your energy and fight as one — it will yield easily."
And therein lay the problem — the three of them were not even remotely in harmony. Their energies clashed like opposing currents, flowing in discordant rhythms.
Ruben sighed, sensing the strain that hung heavy between them.
"My instructors always said the best way to vent frustration is through combat," he said, a knowing smile curving across his lips. "So that's exactly what we'll do. You three will spar against one another."